


And The Sun Will Rise

by HJC_LGBT



Series: For the Wretched of The Earth there is a flame that never dies [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys Kissing, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Drinking, Execution, French Revolution, Genderfluid Character, Ghosts, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, Love, Love Confessions, Men Crying, Multi, Non-Canonical Character Death, Nonbinary Character, Pining, Rebellion, Relationship(s), Singing, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HJC_LGBT/pseuds/HJC_LGBT
Summary: The story of the brave souls of the 1832 June Rebellions in Paris.  Takes place alongside chapters 11-16 of Even The Darkest Night Will End.
Relationships: Bahorel/Feuilly (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Javert/Jean Valjean, Joly/Bossuet Laigle, Marius Pontmercy & Éponine Thénardier, Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Series: For the Wretched of The Earth there is a flame that never dies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774051
Kudos: 3





	1. A short introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Much like Even the Darkest... the first chapter is a semi detailed mostly meta character description detailing name and age changes, race, sexuality an a brief note on appearance and personality for each character who features prominently. For Eponine, Marius, Cosette, Javert and Valjean please read chapter one of Even The Darkest Night Will End.

Enjolras Apollo (I know Enjolras is supposed to be his last name but I think it works here.) - The Marble Lover of Liberty. This man is made of marble, literally look up beauty and you’ll find a picture of him. Would do anything for his cause, believes in true justice. Communist? Maybe. Inspiring, natural leader. Married to France! Tall, pale skin, Long blonde hair and blue eyes. 20 by the end of the story. Gay.

Grantaire Deschamps (see explanation above) - The Cynic. Pines, adores, stares longingly, drinks heavily, laughs a lot. Believes in only one thing (see character above), Soft at heart, he cares so deeply about his friends and he really is ready to give everything for this cause but he definitely uses humour as a coping mechanism and people usually think he’s serious. Don’t let Vicky fool you, this boy is beautiful too, I based him on both Hadley Fraser and George Blagden but made him a Jamaican mix as well. Average height, Medium length brown curls and green eyes. 20 by the end of the story. Gay but especially for Enjolras.

Samuel Montparnasse - He’s not actually a barricader but he’s important to one of them so here he is. A dandy but also a criminal, he’s gorgeous and doesn’t let gender determine what he wears, no matter what anyone tries to say. Tall, South Korean, Long black hair, usually tied up. Brown eyes. 20 by the end of the story. Gay.

Marc Bahorel - The anarchist. Literally the most badass one there, will not hesitate to punch someone in the face. Ready to fight, ready to do anything in the name of the cause, will always stand up for what they see as right, no matter the consequence. Jamaican, Tall, Dreadlocked black hair and brown eyes. Non binary. 20 by the end of the story. Pansexual.

Fredrich Feuilly - The pretty boy. Makes fans and clothes, loves wearing frilly shirts. Will also do anything for what is seen as right, won’t hesitate to do it either. Headstrong, caring, mature and beautiful. Average height, Pale skin, long dark blonde hair and blue eyes. 19 by the end of the story. Bisexual.

Victor “Vic” James Joly - This is where I explain that my au has no Muschietta, for a reason. My Joly is trans and his deadname is Muschietta. Therefore she no longer exists in my version. Joly is happy yet afraid, also he likes to sleep a lot to help with his frequent panic attacks. Caring, kind yet ready to fight when he must. Refuses to back down once his mind is set on something. Light skin, Short, short light brown hair and brown eyes. 19 by the end of the story. Gay.

Francis Courfeyrac - The Irishman (Three guesses who he’s based off of) Ready to spring into action yet fearful of death. Passionate and loyal without fail, Confident yet kind and caring especially with Gavroche, his adoptive cousin. Tries to always keep a positive mindset and assures that even if he should die in this fight, he will die fighting to truly be free, alongside the people he cares most about. Irish!! Tiny, naturally curly black hair and bright blue eyes. 19 by the end of the story. Gay.

Stewart Bossuet “Bo” Lesgles - No I didn’t make him bald, nor did I make him the eldest. It just makes sense like this to me. Smiles and laughs, no matter the situation, Has been living with Vic since they were both 16. This one is a literal angel, deserves the world and more. Devoted and willing to their cause yet fears death just as much as and probably more than everyone else. Honestly cannot survive without Joly and the feeling is mutual. Average height, Half Nigerian, Short ginger hair, dark ginger beard and grey eyes. Glasses. 19 by the end of the story. Bisexual.

Alistair Combeferre - The Scholar - Soft spoken, yet opinionated, cares about freedom. Does believe more in peace but wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet or shoot one if it was the right thing to do in that situation. Brave! Friend or foe, he will help because he really is another angel. Wears glasses!! African and French, Tall, Short brown hair and eyes. 19 by the end of the story. Bisexual.

Jehan Prouvaire - The Youngest. Interchangeably uses They, He and She as well as the feminine presenting name Jeh (Jay). Impossible to hate, the sweetest of them all. Doesn’t fear his own death but rather the deaths of the others. Absolutely devoted to the cause, would do anything for the brighter future they all want. Loves plants, plays the flute and the piano as well as writing and reading poetry. Genderfluid. They say he dresses badly but it’s just the fact that there’s three different styles depending on presentation. The personification of love and innocence. Pale skin, average height, Long red hair and green eyes, FRECKLES!! 16, almost 17 by the end of the story. Pansexual.

Gavroche also appears but it is a brief appearance as I couldn't stand to write about the death of a child. He looks quite similar to Eponine (See - Even The Darkest...)


	2. Look Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We open on Paris in 1832, the city is on the brink of rebellion as the poor grow weary of the hand they have been dealt.

Paris 1832.

“ _ Look down, and see the beggars at your feet. Look down and show some mercy if you can. Look down and see the sweepings of the streets, look down, look down upon your fellow man. _ ” Paris was overrun with poor. Street children and street adults. Thieves and prostitutes, everything the upper class despised all in one place. But then again it always had been so easy for them to sit in their ivory towers and pretend the world was okay despite so many living in the shit, the squalour and the hell that they knew no better than. They grew tired and restless and angrier as the days passed by and all the swells would do was ride past in their carriages, smelling their flowers to escape the stench of death that haunted the streets.

“ _ When’s it gonna end, when we gonna live? Something’s gotta happen now, something’s gotta give. It’ll come. It’ll come. It’ll come. _ ” 

There’s a group of students who have seen this disgusting array of human negligence all their lives. They could not bear it any longer.

“ _ Where are the leaders of the land? Where are the swells who run this show? _ ” One asked, Enjolras - their leader. The boy was no more than 20, yet stood so proud and tall, as if he had been alive much longer. He was seemingly carved from marble, almost like a statue built by the Ancient Greeks demonstrating the finest beauty mankind could offer. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to him.

“ _ Only one man and that’s Lamarque, speaks for the people here below. _ ” Another, Marius, informed. He wasn’t as ethereal as Enjolras, in fact he was rather ordinary in looks. But he surely made up for this fact in his fervent enthusiasm. 

“ _ See our children fed, help us in our shame. Something for a crust of bread. In holy Jesus name. _ ” The crowd, gathered outside the home of Lamarque, begging anyone they could as they were addressed once more by Marius.

“ _ Lamarque is ill and fading fast, won’t last the week out so they say. _ ” He sang, concerned.

“ _ With all the anger in the land, how long before the judgement day? Before we cut the fat ones down to size? _ ” Enjolras asked, voice strong enough to move mountains. The crowd cheered.

“ _ Before the barricades arise! _ ” They all sang, united in their goals. They raised their arms as they chanted, the police trying to break up their crowd.

“Vive General Lamarque! Vive La France! Vive La France!” Much of the crowd ran away. Most running to a cafe close by. All but Marius, who followed a friend of his, Eponine somewhere else.

The rest of the group met on the second floor of The Musain Cafe. Enjolras addressed them all. 

“Tomorrow we’ll go back to General Lamarque’s house. If today is any indication we should have a spectacular turn out. The people will rise, it seems.” He said, strong and sure, holding himself with a confidence rarely seen among boys his age.

“And if they don’t?” Came a voice from the back. Grantaire, who was equal parts enamoured by Enjolras’ sure confidence and amused by it. His friends called him cynical, yet he saw himself as a realist. All their lives many of them had wanted change and he didn’t quite believe that they could be the ones to bring it about. He stared Enjolras in the eyes as he waited for a reaction, doing his best to hide the way he melted when Enjolra did so much as to speak his name.

“Grantaire. We’ll have none of your signature cynicisms now. We have work to do. We need guns and ammunition. Not ifs and buts. Now everyone has something to do, go do it. Grantaire, come here.” Enjolras replied.

Grantaire approached, concealing his shiver as Enjolras stared at him, unamused.

“R, I don’t appreciate you saying those things in front of everyone while I’m talking. Nor do I appreciate your constant drinking. You can hurt yourself or someone else if you drink so heavily. Nor can you shoot while drunk.” Enjolras said, flitting between firm and soft tones.

“I appreciate you being so concerned for my health, Apollo. But I don’t have the same concerns, nor am I at all drunk. Believe me, drinking to get drunk isn’t at all fun!” Grantaire said.

“Fun doesn’t matter right now, Grantaire what matters is-.”

“The Revolution. I know.”

“You say that you now but then you rarely act upon it, it’s almost as if you have no care for it.” Enjolras said, firmly.

“That isn’t true, I have a vague ambition for it.” Grantaire replied, mostly jokingly yet his delivery seemed serious to the already unamused Enjolras.

“Vague ambition will not see this through Grantaire!” Enjolras said, growing slightly heated.

“Nor will blind confidence!” Grantaire retaliated. 

“You believe in nothing!” Enjolras said, voice raised.

“ **I believe in you!** ” Grantaire yelled, hurt by Enjolras’ assessment of him. “I always have. I always will. I’d follow you into the jaws of death because when you speak I can believe it. You are a reality. My reality. Understand that.” He finished, picking up his bottle and going over to a table away from Enjolras.

“R, I’m sorry!” Enjolras called after him, only stopping from going after him when Francis Courfeyrac placed a hand on his arm. 

“Leave him a while, Enjolras. He’ll be back over here, I promise you.” The Irishman said before rejoining Alistair at a different table. Enjolras nodded, angry at himself for upsetting Grantaire in such a way, but returning to his more urgent business to take his mind away from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am quite happy with myself on this one to be honest, especially considering these are my first set of Les Mis fanfics.


	3. ABC Cafe/Red and Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that night, the revolutionaries receive some news from Marius and later Gavroche.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some strong Enjoltaire pining in this one. Along with a little moment towards the end. Also some of the others are introduced such as Fredrich Feuilly, Vic Joly, Marc Bahorel, Stewart Lesgles- referred to as Bo and Jehan Prouvaire - referred to in a feminine sense as Jeh.

That night at The Musain, Enjolras was addressing the group once again. He asked his fellow revolutionaries for updates on what was happening around the city so close to their hopeful revolution. Many of them tried to speak at once. Enjolras called for quiet. He instead pointed to Alistair, the medicine student who served essentially as their second in command to Enjolras despite him being so young, who quickly began to speak.

“At Notre Dame the sections are prepared!” He said, excitedly pushing his glasses back up as they began to slip. 

“At Rue de Bac they’re straining at the leash.” Fredrich Feuilly chimed in. In his hands he held a flag he’d been stitching. He smiled widely at Enjolras who nodded back.

“Students, workers, everyone!  _ There’s a river on the run, like the flowing of the tide, Paris is coming to our side! _ ” Francis added, enthusiastically. Alistair squeezed his hand. All of their spirits high. 

“ _ The time is near, so near, it’s stirring the blood in their veins and yet beware. Don’t let the wine go to your brains. _ ” Enjolras added, looking pointedly at Grantaire at the mention of wine. He smirked and took a large swig from his bottle in retaliation. “ _ For the army we fight is a dangerous foe, with the men and the arms that we never can match. While it easy to sit here and swat them like flies, the national guard will be much harder to catch. We need a sign to rally the people, to call them to arms, to bring them in line. _ ” Enjolras finished. Marius stumbled in, looking bewildered and dumbstruck. “Marius. You’re late!” He stated, disappointed in the boy. 

Marius wandered aimlessly over to a table with Vic, Bo and Grantaire.

“What’s wrong today? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!” Vic Joly asked as he ruffled his hands through his own hair out of habit. Marius turned toward him, eyes wide.

“Some wine and say what’s going on.” Grantaire said, tipping some wine into a cup for him. Marius took it, sipping gently.

“ _ A ghost you say? A ghost, maybe, she was just like a ghost to me. One minute there then she was gone! _ ” Marius replied at last. Grantaire laughed at the look on his face. Despite knowing that look well. Vic and Bo joined, the two of them also knowing the look.

“I am agog, I am aghast!  _ Is Marius in love at last? I’ve never heard him ooh and aah. _ ” Grantaire began, before standing. “ _ You talk of battles to be won! _ ” He sang, in reference to Enjolras, staring at him as he continued. “ _ And here he comes like Don Juan! It is better than an opera! _ ” Grantaire finished, overdramatically taking a bow as some of the others cheered and clapped while laughing. Enjolras approached, also taking a seat at their table, right next to the once again sitting Grantaire.

“ _ It is time for us all to decide who we are. Do we fight for the right to a night at the opera now? Have you asked of yourselves what’s the price you might pay?  _ ” At this mention many of the once smiling revolutionaries stopped, some shaking a little, Grantaire staring at Enjolras almost breathless. “ _ Is this simply a game for a rich young boy to play? The colours of the world are changing day by day. Red, the blood of angry men. Black, the dark of ages past. Red, a world about to dawn. Black, the night that ends at last! _ ” Enjolras sang before standing to move elsewhere, until he was stopped by Marius.

“ _ Had you been there tonight you might know how it feels to be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight. Had you been there tonight you might also have known, how your world may be changed in just one burst of light and what was right seems wrong and what was wrong seems right. _ ” Grantaire’s head snapped up to Marius, knowing everything he was describing, he looked back at Enjolras, smiling widely.

“ _ Red! _ ” Grantaire sang. Enjolras looked at him, astounded.

“ _ I feel my soul on fire! _ ” Marius sang, passionately.

“ _ Black! _ ” Grantaire smirked, still staring.

“ _ My world if she’s not there. _ ”

“ _ Red! _ ” Others joined in.

“ _ The colour of desire! _ ”

“ _ Black! _ ” Even more joined this time.

“ _ The colour of despair! _ ”

“ _ Marius, you’re no longer a child, I do not doubt you mean it well but now there is a higher call. Who cares about your lonely soul? We strive towards a larger goal, our little lives don’t count at all! _ ” Enjolras sang. “ _ Red! _ ”

“ _ The blood of angry men! Black, the dark of ages past! Red, a world about to dawn! Black, the night that ends at last! _ ” Everyone in the Musain joined in their song, inspired by Enjolras once more. 

“You say this to me but never to them.” Marius said, referring to almost every other around the tables. “Is it because I like women?”

“I can’t believe you sometimes, Marius. Bo likes women, Marc, Jeh and me as well!” Alistair said, slightly offended.

“For your information, Marius Pontmercy, it’s because they don’t let what they feel get in the way of what we have to do!” Enjolras said, slightly angry. “And they aren’t childish about it either.” Enjolras waved his hand, dismissively. Marius sat back down, earning a little bit of side eye from some of the others.

“Courfeyrac, do we have all the guns? Feuilly, Combeferre, our time is running short.” Enjolras turned back around, seeing Grantaire going to drink again. “Grantaire, put the bottle down, do we have the guns we need?” Grantaire drank anyway, approaching Enjolras.

“Give me brandy on my breath and I’ll breathe them all to death.” He said, laughing. Gavroche, a boy they were all familiar with that they had essentially accepted into their ranks, shot up the stairs. Francis ran over to him. Enjolras opened his mouth to retaliate against Grantaire only for Francis to yell.

“Listen, Everybody!” He yeled, gently pushing Gavroche forwards.

“General Lamarque is dead.” Gavroche said. Some gasped, others sighed sadly but most were silent in shock.

“Lamarque is dead.” Enjolras repeated. “Lamarque. His death is the hour of fate! The people’s man! His death is the sign we await!” He realised. “On his funeral day they will honour his name, with the light of rebellion ablaze in their eyes. In the death of Lamarque we will kindle our flame, from the tomb of Lamarque shall our barricade rise!  _ The time is here, let us welcome it gladly with courage and cheer! _ ”

“ _ Let us take to the street with no doubt in our hearts! _ ” Jeh Prouvaire sang excitedly.

“ _ But a jubilant shout! _ ” Marc Bahorel added.

“ _ They will come one and all! _ ” Bo Lesgles chimed in. 

“ _ They will come when we call! _ ” They all sang together, focused entirely on their objective. All except Marius, who was focused on Eponine Thenardier who had walked in not long after the news of Lamarque’s death. He ran to her.

“Have you found her, Ponine? Please say you have, please.” Marius whispered as to not be heard by the others. Eponine nodded, taking him by the hand and leading him away. Enjolras noticed and only shook his head, disappointed but not exactly surprised. He walked over to the stairs, debating telling Marius to come back but deciding against it.

“Leave him be, Apollo. He’s bound to feel lonely when he sees everyone else all over each other.” Grantaire said, placing a hand tentatively on Enjolras’ shoulder.

“I still don’t understand how he can just run off! Especially now! At least Jeh waits until our meetings are over before she goes to see Sam.” Enjolras said. “Nevermind, he’ll come back, I suppose.” Enjolras sighed.

“Don’t we all?” Grantaire mused quietly, retracting his hand and moving to walk away only to have his arm grabbed by Enjolras.

“R, I, well I never really apologuised for what I said to you earlier. It wasn’t fair of me and had I known I wouldn’t have said it at all.” Enjolras said, seriously. 

“Had you known what?” Grantaire asked.

“Had I known how you felt, saying you believed only in me. I suppose I didn’t quite expect you to say it but I also suppose I should have realised sooner I mean I’ve noticed when I speak you always stare.” Enjolras said, Grantaire felt his heart stop, his breath hitched and his eyes widened.

“You’ve noticed?” He asked. 

“I mean, yeah, I always judge how my speeches are going based on your facial expressions. Everyone else usually has the same one but you’ve always been quite expressive so I use you to let me know.” Enjolras explained.

“Oh. That makes sense.” He breathed out, less tense after being reassured that he surely hadn't been rattled.

“Were you not aware of it?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire wished silently that he’d never approached him now. Neither of them had noticed the silence that had fallen across the room or that quite a few eyes were on them.

“I cannot answer that question without Marius present.” Grantaire joked.

“Why?” Enjolras asked, confused.

“He’s agreed to be my lawyer in such a situation.” Enjolras laughed at Grantaire’s response. Grantaire’s heart fluttered at the noise. He smiled. Enjolras smiled back. “Smiles look good on you, Apollo. Perhaps you should do it more often, it could probably inspire a whole revolution even more than your words already have.”

Enjolras laughed again.

“And you should open yourself up a little more, R. You’re a very likeable person when you do.” Enjolras replied, smiling again before gently kissing Grantaire’s forehead and patting his shoulder then quickly going downstairs to help preparations down there. Grantaire stood, silent and blushing darkly before receiving a clap on the back from Vic then Francis.

“Careful, Grantaire, if you don’t breathe you’ll die before your precious Apollo comes back upstairs.” Francis laughed. Grantaire rolled his eyes, going to sit down again and picking his bottle back up. He put it down again, the buzzing high he felt already overpowering his need for alcohol. He smiled widely at the others at the table before going back to helping out.


End file.
